


Tarantella

by ShizukaAmaya



Category: SHINee
Genre: Dark Comedy, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-04-03 20:18:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14003919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShizukaAmaya/pseuds/ShizukaAmaya
Summary: "It's so good to have someone to be so bad with."





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Tarantella](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/364329) by ShizukaAmaya. 



> Hello!
> 
> I know that my existence here is barely noticeable, so most of you probably don’t remember me, but I’ve decided to attack your notifications again after a long time of absence. As you may know (or not) I’m writing stories in Polish and sometimes (rarely) translate them, so that more people can read them. It’s been a long time since I’ve finished publishing “Correspondance des Arts”, so it feels like I’m new here again, please take care of me! This time I came back to invite you to an adventure totally different from the softness and innocence of my last work. The story I’m currently translating is called “Tarantella” and there are a few things I want to tell you about it, before the show will start.
> 
> Tarantella is a strange story. But it has its own special charm, a bit disturbing, but still addictive. This is an experiment. And experiments are not always successful. However, I am the type of a seeker! Always trying to explore new areas of my own imagination. Constantly looking for new adventures! Tarantella should not be taken too seriously. After you join this adventure it’s better to give yourself up to the grotesque and madness. And have fun, because that's what it's all about! Tarantella is a sublime way of fighting with an extreme boredom. I hope you will go through this strange journey with my characters and together you will find a medicine for boredom.
> 
> When it comes to warnings… I don’t know what to write. It’s a fun story, so don’t be afraid of any angsty, sad turns of events. But at the same time it’s a bit peculiar and there are some things that might be disturbing for some of you (a little bit of blood, two bossy spiders, one huge rat and two resident madmen named Taemin and Minho xD)
> 
> I started writing it around spring 2016 during an extremely boring lecture. I finished it last summer. And now I’m introducing it to you, my dear audience. I hope you’re going to like it and have some fun with my sons!
> 
> Loving,  
> Shizu <3

Taemin tilted his head, intrigued, as he watched a spider hanging from the ceiling. The creature worked with its long legs, quickly and precisely weaving a cobweb in the space between two wooden walls that were covered with faded green paint. Taemin frowned, unable to understand the spider's efforts. If he held the power over these surprisingly strong threads, that were magically glittering in the morning light, he would certainly use this skill in a much more interesting way. Much more exciting than building a house of dubious quality, right below the ceiling.

The spider released a thread that was longer than the previous one and tried to stick it on a flat surface, but to no avail. The creature swayed dangerously a few meters above the ground, within an ace of falling down. Taemin held his breath for a moment, tensely watching the desperate struggle with gravity. However, when the spider released another thread and managed to stabilize his location, the boy sighed disappointedly and looked away. The spider turned out to be just as typical as the rest of the creatures that inhabited this earth.

“Hyuuuung,” he murmured, pouting. It made him look like a moody kid. It wasn’t too far from the truth, actually.

“Hm?” Minho did not even look up from the table, too caught up in tightening some screws in order to create a mechanism.

"Hyung," Taemin repeated, this time not childishly, but in a firm, imperious tone of voice, that apparently alerted the boy at the table, because he raised his head and threw his friend a questioning glance.

"I'm bored," said the younger solemnly, making his words sound oh-so-dramatic. Then he looked away and stared at his spider again. His household began to take quite impressive shape. It would be such a shame if somebody decided to destroy it, wouldn’t it?

In order to vary his perspective, Taemin changed his position, laying down on his back with his head dangling down over the armrest of the elegant, but threadbare old sofa. Unfortunately, this way the world turned out to be almost as boring as normally.

“Eustace does not entertain you anymore?” Minho asked, sitting down next to his friend and also looking at the spider. In answer to this question, Taemin shook his head, making his light hair sway cutely in the air.

“He’s dead. I buried him in the garden,” he replied with a dispassionate tone of voice, showing no interest in Eustace's fate. Minho raised his eyebrows and looked at the boy lying on the sofa.

“You buried a goldfish…?” he asked, not even trying to hide his amusement. “In the garden?”

"I always wanted to bury something in there," Taemin said, livening up for a second. “Unfortunately Eugene had escaped, so I had to settle for Eustace.” The boy pouted, expressing his dissatisfaction with the situation. “Anyway, Eustace deserved it. He did not fulfill my wishes at all,” he grunted, shaking his head sadly.

“You let Eugene escape?” Minho asked in disbelief, recalling the big, gray rat with sharp claws, that Taemin had been chasing through the basement for a good few weeks before he finally managed to catch it. The elder couldn't understand why, after such a great effort put in packing this wild creature into a cage, his friend let him escape. Lee, however, did not seem to be moved by the loss of his pet.

“He’s no fun when in cage,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it was obvious. “In few days I’m going to play tag with him again," he added thoughtfully. Minho shook his head with a smile.

“So you’ve found a new pet?” he asked, pointing at the spider, silently working in the corner of the room. Taemin, however, shook his head rapidly.

“Endymion doesn’t seem to be an entertaining spider,” he murmured doubtfully. Actually, it was quite surprising that he was still letting such a boring creature live in this house. He needed to do something about it soon…

“If that’s the case, maybe you should start keeping snakes again? They’re definitely more interesting than Endymion's existence…” Minho suggested, standing up from the sofa. He walked towards the corner of the room and with his face turned to the ceiling, stared at their staggeringly boring roommate. At the same time, he recalled these fascinating times a few years ago, when Taemina had a mania for gathering reptilian creatures under this roof. It’s hard not to remember those thrilling moments, when in the shower instead of water you could got punched in the face with a scaly animal bulk, or when during sleep you could suddenly feel a suspiciously cold touch on the leg. At the thought of it, Minho felt a shiver going down his spine. It wasn’t fear, nor was it disgust. It was a thrill of a pure excitement.

Not getting an answer, Choi turned to his friend, that was still lying on the sofa. Judging by his expression Minho could easily guess, that for the younger this idea apparently wasn’t exciting enough. As expected, Lee Taemin was always looking for something new.

“Snakes are overrated...” he finally said, shrugging helplessly. Minho sighed, not too surprised by the younger’s reply, and began to look for a better idea in his head.

“So, maybe today…”

“Minho, it’s not about today,” said the younger impatiently. Choi raised one eyebrow. That was something new. Usually, the problem of Taemin was limited to one single question: “What should I do today, not to be bored?” This time, however, the situation appeared to be much more serious.

“So about what?” the elder asked, in response receiving a difficult to define gesture of hands, as if Lee tried to grab with them the air that he inhaled.

“Everything,” he explained not very precisely, but extremely expressively. “Life.”

Minho thought about these words for a moment, focusing on the younger friend's expression of extreme boredom. Finally, he sighed heavily and sat back next to him. Ancient springs of the sofa creaked sadly.

“Well, so there are the two of us,” he concluded, unable to argue with such an apt statement. He could play in segregating gears and screws, occasionally even creating something from them, but in fact it was just his way of killing the time. Because time seemed to be just too boring to try to get along with it.

“We have to do something about it, it’s driving me insane,” Taemin swayed his head again, this time annoyed. “If only I was Endymion...” he muttered, looking at the hanging spider again.

“I thought Endymion was boring...” Minho said, confused. Taemin rolled his eyes impatiently.

“Endymion is... but not his abilities,” explained the younger. “Look at him.” The boy waved his hand towards the spider. “He’s hanging a few meters above the floor, and only one, thin, barely visible thread protects him from falling. Always on the edge, between life and death. Doesn’t it sound fascinating?”

The boy's rhetorical question hung in the air, and his strangely enthusiastic tone of voice marked the space of the room with a sparkle of madness.

Minho thought about his friend’s words for a moment, then silently stood up and disappeared from Taemin’s view. After a few minutes, he came back, carrying an impressively high ladder. He set it in the corner. The younger watched as his friend climbed up the wooden, creaking steps, just to reach the farthest corner of this high-vaulted old room. Having achieved the final step, he pulled a pair of scissors from his pocket and held the blades a few millimeters from the thin, invisible thread. Endymion's life was in his hands.

“We can always help him to fall," he said, looking at Taemin. In his eyes, for the first time since the beginning of this conversation, flashed a vivid sign of an interest. Minho laughed at the effects of his actions. “It’s much more interesting when I’m the one who decides about his fate, don’t you think? He can only try to do something about it...” he said, and seeing his friend slightly nodding with an anticipation in his dark eyes, he finally made a decisive move with his hand and cut the spider's thread.

They both held their breaths when the creature began to fall. Their victory, however, lasted only a fraction of a second, because then Endymion desperately released a new thread on which he hardly survived, but which saved his life. Minho tapped his scissors against the ladder.

“He’s stubborn, isn’t he...” he muttered, watching as the spider slowly climbs back to his apartment. He considered the complete destruction of his house for a moment, but Taemin’s voice stopped him.

“Minho,” he said, and the change that could be heard in his voice made the elder completely lose interest in the spider. He looked questioningly at his friend who sat up.

“What? Do you want me to kill him?” he asked, but Lee's face made him silently climb down the ladder and sit beside him, still waiting for him to verbalize his thoughts.

“Minho,” spoke the younger, this time throwing a strangely feverish glance at his friend. It’s surprising how in the blink of an eye his extreme boredom transformed smoothly into the highest enthusiasm. Minho could only try to guess what this boy was thinking about this time.

“How about…” Lee began again, clearly looking for the right words to put his truly genius idea in. “How about a bet?”

“A bet?” Minho raised his eyebrow. Right, it wasn’t something that they did every day, but still he couldn’t understand why it would cause so many disturbing sparkles in the younger's eyes. “You want to bet Endymion's life?” asked the elder uncertainly, receiving denial in response.

Taemin shifted his weight, kneeling on the sofa, leaning his arms in front of his friend and looking at him seriously. Their faces were suddenly very close to each other. And the elder just couldn’t get enough of this sight. The fire of excitement, which he had so rarely seen in his friend's eyes lately, now inflamed in them for good.

Taemin stayed motionless for a moment, eyeing the older boy's face, as if hurryingly calculating all pros and cons of his idea. Few seconds passed and Minho felt the boy removing his scissors from his hand. Lee began to rotate the tool in his hands, enjoying the cold, strangely definitive touch on his skin. Thoughtfully, he ran his finger across the blade, then again looked deeply into his friend’s eyes.

“Ours,” he said, putting opened scissors to the older boy's neck and forming his lips in a diabolical smile that, for strange reasons, perfectly matched with his angelic face. “Let's bet our lives, Minho. This is probably the most fascinating game I've ever invented for us, so please, appreciate my genius and agree.”

After such words, the only thing the elder could do was to nod. 


	2. Round 0

“Taemin! Come here, your breakfast is getting cold!” Minho shouted towards the corridor. Then he sat comfortably at the table and started sipping his bitter black coffee. After a few refreshing sips, he paused for a moment, straining his ears. He didn’t get any answer to his call. The morning silence was still covering the dreary cabinets and dressers of the old house, still decorating elegant chandeliers, still spreading its spider webs between the patterned walls. Minho rolled his eyes, aware of the fact, that his friend is simply ignoring him. He’d probably woken up hours ago. This boy couldn’t bear laying in his bad longer than until 6 a.m. The undisturbed silence of the house only confirmed Choi's assumption. His friend was, at the moment, apparently up to no good, and completely ignoring the fact that his tea was already almost cold. Minho had no idea why the hell he was still preparing meals for this devil.

The elder boy opened a newspaper and flipped through the first few pages. Nothing. Not a single remarkable piece of information. He sighed heavily. It still surprised him how boring were the lives of the people from the surrounding town. Day by day, he would open a newspaper, hoping for some stunning news, for some intriguing events, for any incident that would dissipate the ordinary nature of human existence. In vain. He was almost always condemned to disappointment. In the final surge of hope, Minho looked through necrologies, but even in such a promising place, he found nothing that would be able to absorb him at least for a moment.

He frowned, unhappy with such beginning of the day. He’d love to start the morning in a more exciting way than eating scrambled eggs, sipping bitter coffee and dwelling upon the monotony of the world.

Taemin was right. Life has become extremely boring, lately.

With a heavy heart Minho turned the last page of the useless newspaper, and was about to reach for a fork, just to drive it into his sad, miserable scrambled eggs, when suddenly the air near his right ear was brutally sliced by the blade of a knife.

The boy did not move a muscle.

He calmly took some eggs on the fork and stuffed it into his mouth. One could almost think he did not even notice the assault on his life, if it wasn’t for an amused smile, slowly forming on his face. It seemed that it finally happened, the moment which he had been awaiting impatiently ever since he woke up.

“So, you’ve decided to come and eat?” he said, not looking up from the table. “I thought I’d have to bring it to you and stuff it into your mouth," he added, glancing at the friend, that was now standing in the doorway. Taemin was far from happy. The boy pouted cutely, dissatisfied with the calmness of his hyung, and approached the table, noisily pulling the chair.

“Can’t you at least pretend that you’re frightened…” he muttered under his breath, glancing at the knife that was now stuck in the wooden door frame, just behind Minho's head. Then he stared at his plate.

“You scared me to death,” replied Minho with fake seriousness, at the same time grinning from ear to ear. The boredom that had troubled him just a moment ago, now mysteriously disappeared, making place for a pure amusement, caused by the behavior of his friend. It has always been like this. Lee Taemin was the only creature on the entire Earth that was able to fully gain his attention. Especially, when he looked at the older with the lust for murder sparkling in his dark eyes. Just like at the moment.

“Stop grinning so triumphantly,” Taemin said, grabbing the fork  and narrowing his eyes. “It was just a warm-up.”

“I know,” replied Minho, this time with a serious face. He reached for his black coffee, another amused smile hiding behind the edge of the cup. “But at least we made a picturesque hole in the frame. I think that if you throw a knife a few more times, a unique pattern will be created…”

“...on your face. Yes, I like this idea.” Taemin smiled angelically, but something in his eyes allowed to conclude that he didn’t treat his words as an empty joke. Minho knew it. And saying that he was afraid would be a complete misunderstanding. In fact, he couldn’t wait for Lee to try and make his words come true.

Taemin threatened Minho with a fork and then glanced at his plate. With a bored expression, he took a bit of his scrambled eggs and was about to put it into his mouth, when his hand frozen halfway. The boy narrowed his eyes, intensely staring at his friend, that has been watching him. Then he slowly put the fork back onto the plate.

“I'm not hungry,” he said in a solemn tone of voice. Minho rolled his eyes, again amused, this time due to the sudden sidestep of Taemin.

“Come on. Seriously, do you think I’d poisoned your breakfast?” he asked dramatically, pretending to be upset. Seeing a sign of discontent in his friend’s eyes, he guessed that he’d read his thoughts, as always, without a fail. “How can you do this to me? I made it with a dedication especially for you! You don’t trust me?”

In response to these words he received a loud snort.

“Of course not,” Taemin said, amused. Choi smiled radiantly, then leaned over the table and ruffled his friend’s hair.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, satisfied. “It would be a pity to win this bet so quickly. The game would be too short.” Taemin wrinkled his nose, annoyed. Minho backed his hand away so that it wouldn’t accidentally become a target of another throw of cutlery.

“You have no chance of winning against me," the younger replied confidently, and his eyes sparkled dangerously once again.

“Of course.” Minho smiled indulgently, the way Taemin hated it the most, and then pointed at his friend’s plate. “So you’re not eating it, right? I hope you won’t mind if I take it, then. I have to immodestly confess that I'm a master of preparing scrambled eggs,” he said lightly, taking Taemin's intact breakfast and eating it by himself.

“Hey, it’s not fair!” The younger was throwing angry glances at the fast movements of his friend's fork. Choi gave him a mischievous smile, but did not stop eating. Taemin gulped and pursed his lips, annoyed. His stomach was rumbling, but he didn’t want to show any sign of weakness.

“You said you’re not eating,” Minho spoke innocently. His friend glared at him.

“Why you didn’t poison it, huh?” Taemin asked accusingly. Minho sent him a lovely smile. “You let me make the first move on purpose...” the younger said with almost disappointed tone of voice.

“I was curious what kind of move would it be.” Minho shrugged, but the younger shook his head, dissatisfied.

“You’re giving me a head start, hyung," he said sadly, puffing up his cheeks in this unbearably charming way that would always bring the most gallows humor to Minho. Taemin knew perfectly well that it was a nice kind of torture. Torture, which hurt so much that Choi was mad about it. The younger stabbed his friend with an intense gaze of his beautiful, shapely eyes. “I do not like it. You’re spoiling the fun…”

For a moment Minho allowed himself to sink into those two dark circles. Their dangerous depth did not cease to fascinate him. He felt enslaved by them. This feeling of being enslaved was strangely intriguing. And Choi Minho was a man who undoubtedly needed intriguing things in his life.

Therefore, it took him some time until he managed to take his eyes off these mesmerizing dark orbs and lean back on his chair. A wicked smile formed on his lips.

“I’m not the only one who started too lightly…” he said with satisfaction. Taemin raised his eyebrows quickly analyzing the last half of an hour, searching for a mistake in his own actions. A gap in the tactics that Minho apparently had noticed first.

“What do you mean?” the younger asked, irritated by the confidence that was so typical of his friend. He hated this omniscient smile with all his heart.

“Well…” Minho raised his hand and reached back. He pulled the knife out of the kitchen window frame. His eyes flashed dangerously as he hauled off and threw the tool. This time the blade sunk in the wood of the table, right before Taemin. The older man smiled, noticing how focused his friend is. “If you’d treated me seriously, this knife would have certainly landed in a much more interesting place than this poor frame.” Lee opened his mouth to justify himself, but his friend wouldn’t allow him to speak. “I know you since kindergarten, Taeminnie, and I’m very precisely aware of what you’re able do with just an ordinary toothpick, not to mention a knife,” he said in a cheerful tone of voice, and the younger growled at him. “You didn’t throw it at me, because you didn’t want to. Just as I didn’t want to poison your scrambled eggs. So we’re square. Let’s consider it as a round zero, okay?

After a moment of hesitation, Taemin nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” he muttered under his breath, dissatisfied with the fact that round zero means a draw.

“Good boy,” Minho smiled brightly, noticing how much his friend wanted to murder him at the moment. Then he made a serious face. “And now it's time start the real game.” He finished his coffee, then got up from the table and walked towards the door. Then he stopped and made a few steps back.  “Oh, I almost forgot…” The boy leaned over Taemin and pointed a porcelain cup, in which the cool tea was still waiting to be drunk. “If you really want to play with me a little, I advise you not to drink this,” he whispered into his ear, caressing his blond hair tenderly. Then he chuckled and in the blink of an eye escaped from the kitchen, escorted by the whistle of a knife, that this time stuck in the slammed kitchen’s door.

\- Choi Minho, you're a cheater!

~*~

“What are you doing, hyung?” Taemin asked in a drowsy voice, placing his chin on his hands and watching his friend as he was working behind an impressive oak desk.

“The same as always,” said Minho, not looking up from the counter. “I'm killing the time.” Choi Minho had long lost interest in making any friendly relations with time. He let him pass and run, clattering inside of watches. And when the time got too annoying, Minho would just undo the mechanism. The ticking would stop. The problem would disappear. Killing the time turned out to be quite an intriguing activity.

“But we have a game to play.” Taemin pouted, looking at his friend accusingly. “Are you sure you don’t have any murderous weapon among these screws?” he asked hopefully. Minho laughed heartily.

“You’d invented this game yourself, Taeminnie, but now you don’t follow its unwritten rules...” he spoke in a patient voice.

“Rules?” Taemin raised one eyebrow.

“In this type of games, what gives you the most fun is planning the next move.” Minho smiled when he saw Taemin cursing under his breath. The younger just hated it when his friend was a step ahead of him. “Patience is also important,” added Choi, looking back at his mechanisms, that were covering the entire big desk.

“I hate patience,” Taemin grumbled, now completely dissatisfied with the conversation.

“Patience is the essential torture. Without it, the effect of the work wouldn’t be so satisfying.” The elder turned a metal element in his hands, and with concentration he placed it in the right place of a delicate mechanism. Taemin watched it with a mixture of irritation and jealousy. In terms of patience, he certainly had to give the victory to his friend. The younger one hated to lose. Especially in the game that he himself came up with. Oh no, the failure was out of question. If Choi wanted a slow, thought-out game, he will get it. And then he will regret the moment, when he forced Taemin to develop a real-life strategy.

“You're right, hyung,” the younger said, evoking the kindest smile he could afford. Minho looked up from the table, alarmed by this sudden change in the attitude of his friend.

“Do you really think so?” His voice was dubious. No matter what Taemin’s strategy was, he wouldn’t fall for it that easily.

“No,” said the younger. “But I will agree to your conditions anyway. Maybe something interesting will come out of it” The devilish sparkle that flashed in his dark eyes caused a shiver on the older man's back. Even so, he did not show how much he liked the dangerous tone of his friend's statement. Instead, he gave him a slightly indulgent smile, then turned back to his work.

Taemin wrinkled his nose, irritated by his dismissiveness, and slid off the sofa. He stretched lazily, suppressing a yawn, then slowly approached his friend’s desk. He barely masked a tender smile, looking closely at all those cogwheels, screws and nuts that were covering the wooden table. Though he usually wasn’t willing to admit it, he really admired the way Minho could do something, out of nothing, with just few tiny elements. Taemin was sure that if he had tried to touch any of these delicate mechanisms, it would surely fall apart in his hands immediately. It’s always been like this. The boy was impulsive, explosive and definitely had too much energy. It didn’t allow him to sit in a place. It rushed him to eternal seeking for new activities. Perhaps that’s why Minho’s static concentration fascinated him to such an extent. Minho could spend hours in his kingdom of screws and bolts, where tiny mechanisms were ticking quietly, like little creatures with metal hearts, capable of functioning only thanks to the life that their creator gave them. But Choi wasn’t a merciful ruler, Taemin knew it. The life that he once gave, he would take back with equal ease. Particular fondness appeared on the younger boy’s face each time he watched those little acts of cruelty, when one jab of a screwdriver was able to stop the hopeful ticking once and for all. There was something endearing in those dark eyes when their owner ruled his small world, over which he had an absolute control.

Yes.

Choi Minho loved to be in control.

Taemin smiled under his breath, taking note of this remark. He intended to use his knowledge later on. Developing the strategy didn’t have to be as boring and tiring as it seemed at first. This simple conclusion put him in an incredible excitement, which, however, with some difficulty he hid behind a bored expression, not wanting to give Minho a signal that something had changed. The boy brushed his fair hair out of his eyes, and with a lazy gesture he leaned on the table.

“What are you doing, hyung?” he asked indifferently, never taking his eyes off his friend's face, and grinning at the slight sign of distraction in his behavior.

“I’m the one who should be asking this question.” Minho frowned a little, twisting some extremely resistant element inside of the mechanism. “I do what I usually do. You’re the one who behaves differently,” he announced, smiling with amusement, but still not even glancing at his friend. Taemin pouted at the remark, displeased with the fact that he’d been so quickly exposed. It wasn’t much of a surprise, though. He’s always been a really poor actor.

"I'm hatching," he finally said, this time forcing his friend to look up from the table.

“Hatching?” The sign of surprise on  Minho’s face lasted only for a short moment, then covered up with a sweet smile. Taemin definitely didn’t like it. Nor did he like the flash of amusement in dark eyes of Minho. Since Lee was always focused on his overwhelming need to fight with boredom, rarely did he spent time on observing his friend. Now, however, Minho was his rival. And Taemin was aware of the fact, that getting to know your enemy was the first step to success. The tips he was collecting at the moment, however, happened to be extremely annoying. He’s just openly admitted that he’s been plotting an ominous plan that would give him victory, and the only thing he received in response was a slightly mocking smile! Did Minho really undervalued him so much? Or maybe he was convinced that he had his younger friend under control?

The blond boy clenched his teeth and glared at Minho. He wanted a strategic game and he will get it. And then he’ll realize that he shouldn’t have underestimated Lee Taemin.

“Yes, I'm hatching,” he announced in a light tone of voice, sending a defiant smile to his friend. Minho glanced at him briefly, a little worried about this unusual behavior. Something new evidently swirled in the younger's head, something was glistening in his eyes, something was lurking in his smile. Usually Choi could easily guess his friend's thoughts. Taemin was like a clean canvas, often stained with violent paint splashes that mixed together, creating a unique image that Minho could almost always interpret without any mistake. Looking now into the eyes of his friend, the boy couldn’t see anything, except a slightly dangerous flash. He tensed up. He just hated to lose control over the situation.

“Hatching what?” he finally asked, glancing at his friend for precisely three seconds and then going back to work. It wasn’t so easy to throw him off-balance. Whatever Taemin invented, the game was just beginning to get serious, Minho felt it clearly, because the atmosphere of laziness and impatience, which the younger spread around himself five minutes ago, disappeared irretrievably, replaced by silence full of thoughts.

“How to kill you, of course,” Taemin replied in an arrogant tone, as if the answer was obvious. Then he rested his chin on one of his hands, using the other to reach for one of the loose cogwheels and begin to play with it.

“Good luck then,” said Minho with a laugh, slowly recovering his peace of mind at the sight of his friend pouting cutely. What happened a few seconds ago was probably nothing more than a daring attempt to make an imminent impression on Minho. Surprising how Taemin almost managed to cross him up. Minho didn’t plan on repeating his mistake. Especially that the fun was getting more and more interesting. Choi Minho of all people would never leave such game first. The defeat was out of question.

“Developing a strategy is a really great idea, you know,” said Taemin thoughtfully, now playing with not one but five cogwheels. Minho raised an eyebrow, wondering if this was just another attempt to intimidate him. The older man laughed inwardly. How could he be scared of this cute boy with his pouty plump lips and eyes glittering innocently? He knew his friend well. He could predict his every move. Taemin's futile efforts were really adorable.

Until the boy looked up at him again.

Minho involuntarily took a deeper breath, strongly influenced by this stare. It was no less intriguing.

“I'm going to find your weak spot, hyung,” he said straightforwardly. “And when I find it, I will hit you where it hurts the most.” Taemin tilted his head and smiled charmingly, looking like a puppy. “It's a good strategy, don’t you think? Be proud.”

The elder froze for a moment, unable to remain completely indifferent to his friend's behavior. And it was not about self-confidence nor determination in the pursuit of winning. Taemin wouldn’t be himself without this little dose of arrogance, lurking behind an innocent smile, or without the will to compete, that was only visible in the wrinkle of his eyebrows. That was nothing new. What have changed were his eyes. They were dark, mysterious, impenetrable. Appealing. Minho had no idea if the paralyzing thrill that ran over his spine was a good sign, or quite the opposite - the worst omen in his life so far. However, he enclosed the whole range of thoughts and observations in a single, and already too nervous clearing of a throat, after which he laughed heartily.

“It can be difficult,” he said in an amused tone, hoping to break the strange stare that made him feel so uncomfortable. Perhaps he underestimated his opponent at first. This boy has really started the game seriously.

“Why?” The younger raised one eyebrow, staring at his friend doubtfully.

Minho sighed heavily and eventually gave up on his work. This time, the mechanism he was trying to undo turned out to be extremely resistant. Just as if it didn’t want to let the ticking of its metal heart to be stopped. Choi decided to deal with it later. At the moment he had a much more serious opponent to fight against. He placed both hands on the desk and leaned towards Taemin, curving his lips in the most bold smirk he could afford at the moment.

"I don’t have weak spots, Taeminnie," he said in a serious voice. And for a brief moment he really believed his own words. But then Taemin unexpectedly grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, paralyzing the skin of his face with his hot breath.

“Let me find it out myself,” he whispered into his ear in a dangerously low tone that only built up the thrill that ran through the elder’s spine. Minho gulped, as his friend stepped away from him and patted his shoulder comfortingly. “I also wish you a nice hatching, hyung,” he said cheerfully, changing back into this charming, fair-haired angel, that was able to deceive anyone. And only his eyes have retained dimmed flashes of light. A promise of troubles.

Minho would never have thought that waking the strategist's soul in Taemin would be such a risky move. His heart was still beating a bit too quickly, and the sudden dose of adrenaline was just beginning to subside. Choi couldn’t complain about these symptoms. For a brief moment, the world became colorful, the shapes sharpened, and the time wasn’t crawling so annoyingly slowly anymore. For a brief moment, the persistent boredom finally stopped, drowned out by the sound of chaotic thoughts. For a brief moment life became a really interesting thing to do.

Minho smiled under his breath, with a new force thrusting the screwdriver straight between the ticking cogs. The rasping song of the mechanical heart stopped.

The game was about to start.


	3. Round 1

"No way," said Minho sternly, crossing his arms over his chest. Taemin, who stood in front of him, made a dissatisfied face, clutching the shovel he held in his hands more firmly.

"But hyuuuuung," he whined in a pleading tone, throwing at his friend an intense gaze of his big dark eyes. The wind blew his fair hair, making him look even more innocent than usually. Minho ignored the adorable sight, and shook his head.

"I said no," he spoke, unimpressed. "Give Eustace some peace." Taemin stamped his foot, like a child, and the innocence from a moment ago turned into an anger in the blink of an eye.

"You're spoiling my fun," he said in an accusing tone, angrily shoving his shovel into the mud and leaning on it. Minho sighed heavily.

"Why your fun has to involve digging a dead goldfish out of the ground?" he asked, trying to be strict, despite being intrigued by his friend's intentions. Well, the capricious Lee Taemin never failed in terms of cuteness. Minho had to beware.

The younger shrugged.

"I always wanted to dig something out of here," he announced impatiently, as if he was saying an obvious fact that no one should be surprised about. Then he turned his gaze to the small mound of soil visible in the grass. The grave of one of his pets. "I'm sure Eustace wouldn't mind. His death is undoubtedly as boring as his life was. He has absolutely nothing to lose anymore." Taemin said. Still hanging on his shovel, he leaned towards his friend, fixing his puppy eyes on him. He knew perfectly well that with this expression he could work miracles sometimes. Minho cleared his throat, but kept a stony face.

"And what are you going to do with him once you dig him out?" he asked, still having no intention of accepting his friend's idea. He really didn't need a smell of a rotten fish in his house. Besides, probably he would be the one who has to clean Taemin's mess after the fun would have been over. No way.

"Have fun, of course!" Taemin exclaimed enthusiastically. "I want to finally make use of this set of cables and wires I got from you for my birthday," he added lively, and Minho could not suppress a tender smile that curved his lips. He loved giving his friend gifts. True, it usually meant trouble and rarely ended safely, but the flash of fascination in Taemin's eyes compensated for all losses and destruction. Minho felt unquestionable pride whenever he managed to erase this expression of constant boredom from the younger face. Therefore, hearing these words, he hesitated, too curious about his friend's intentions to continue to oppose.

Seeing the change in hyung's attitude, Taemin smiled with satisfaction. He didn't do it all purposelessly. It's been some time since he noticed a particular connection between his behavior and Minho's self-control. Now he confirmed his suppositions. The elder could be static and unmoved, but whenever Taemin used any of his secret tricks, like a charming smile or an extremely sinister gaze, Minho would, involuntarily and probably not quite consciously, lose his beloved control over the situation, and often agree to anything the younger wanted. Taemin still didn't understand why it worked this way, but the mechanism itself turned out to be extremely useful to him. He intended to use it to develop his own strategy. And well... Minho staring at him like hypnotized was a really endearing sight. Taemin wouldn't dare to complain about it.

After thirty seconds, the older one blinked abruptly, as if he had suddenly come out of some kind of a trance that his friend's gaze put him into. What the younger did to him was at least disturbing. Dangerous. Lee Taemin was dangerous. Minho had to dispose of him as soon as possible.

Driven by a sudden surge of reasonableness, he made a stern face again.

"No," he declared with a categorical tone. The sweet expression in the blink of an eye disappeared from Taemin's face. The boy whined loudly, totally unhappy.

"But hyuuuung..."

"No way. You will not revive a dead fish using electricity. Forget it." Choi shook his head, stern but still amused by the childish stubbornness of his friend. Taemin, with his eyebrows furrowed angrily, grabbed his shovel in both hands and swung it dangerously, almost hitting the still-unshakable Minho in his face.

"It doesn't have to come alive. Just electrocuting would be interesting enough," he tried again, but he already knew that he lost this time. "Why can't you agree, hyung?" he asked reproachfully.

"Because it's unaesthetic," simply replied Minho, then shrugged. The younger snorted, indignant.

"Since when do you care about the aesthetics of your surroundings?" he asked gruffly.

"Since I live with you under the same roof," answered Minho, amused. "Eustace's rotting carcass would spoil my sights," he added teasingly, then stretched out his hand and ruffled his friend's blond hair. Taemin snapped at him, attacking with a shovel once again, this time hitting the elder's shoulder with satisfaction.

"You will regret saying this," he hissed, feeling humiliated by such treatment. Choi Minho was a master of throwing him off-balance. "In that case, I will have to test this gift out on someone else," he muttered under his breath, and Minho felt a shiver running down his spine.

"Was that supposed to be a threat?" he asked, raising one eyebrow and trying hard not to look affected by Taemin's antics. In fact, he couldn't wait for Taemin to send him the devilish smile, that always heralded the most exciting torture he could ever imagine. And the younger didn't disappoint him, as a second later he looked at his friend with perfectly sinister expression. Minho was quickly becoming addicted to this sight.

"It's just a promise of fun, hyung," Taemin said in a sweet tone of voice, then waved his shovel in the air again, this time hitting his friend in the stomach. Minho suppressed the hiss of pain. "And now I'm going to water the flowers," said the younger suddenly, as if that was the most normal thing to do at the moment. He abandoned his murderous weapon and started walking away. Minho watched him, surprised.

"What flowers?" he asked, as a response receiving Taemin's giggle.

"For your grave, of course," he replied, without turning back. Then he disappeared somewhere between the trees of the garden.

Minho stood motionless for a moment, intrigued by the strange affliction of his heart, that was beating way too fast. Choi raised his hand up to his chest and tapped on it with his forefinger, as if asking the question to his own organ, that should be obediently pumping blood, not getting excited over his wicked friend’s antics. In response, the heart actually slowed down, coming back to its usual rhythm. Minho slowly exhaled. He regained the control over the situation.

The question was... for how long?

~*~

Taemin really went to water the flowers. He grabbed a watering can and vigorously walked across the garden, passing blooming shrubs and a few fruit trees. Of course, the one who cared about all these plants was Minho. Taemin would never even bother to touch them. This time, however, as a part of The Great Campaign of Defeating Choi Minho, he decided to beat his hyung on every field, even as ridiculous as gardening. That's why he bought seeds of the most beautiful flowers he could get, and planted them in his corner of the garden.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he reached his destination and stopped. He placed his hands on his hips and cocked his head, intensely staring at his plant.

Or rather, the lack of a plant.

Taemin let out a sigh of irritation, then dropped to his knees and bent over the place where he'd planted flowers the day before. However, the mound of soil remained a mound of soil, and that's it, nothing more. Not even a single, small shoot growing out of the ground. Nothing. Taemin was so disappointed that he kicked his watering can. He hated patience. Gardening was definitely no fun for him. Well, Minho will have to do without flowers on his grave.

Taemin threw another scornful glance at the mound of soil, then grabbed the secateurs that was lying near him and began to play with it in order to concentrate his thoughts. And his thoughts focused on one huge and extremely absorbing problem.

Choi Minho.

The boy swung the secateurs in the direction of the house, and the blade of the tool slashed through the air above his head. Ah, how much he would give just to cut Minho into few uneven pieces! He also had many other visions, from strangling and stabbing, to electrocuting. Ideas were buzzing inside of his head. Ever since he woke up he wanted to attack Minho almost twenty times already. He wanted to, but he didn't. His hyung was still breathing and didn't have a single scratch on his skin! Why? Ah!

Taemin threw the secateurs with frustration and watched its quick flight. The tool dug deep into the soil, destroying one of Minho's plants.

The boy looked at the old, elegant house. His enemy was somewhere behind these walls. And even though Taemin was so eager to attack, this time he wasn't going to give up to this impulses so easily. Every time he was about to reach for a knife, the familiar, low voice spoke in his head again.

"Patience is the essential torture. Without it, the effect of the work wouldn't be so satisfying "- it kept on replaying in his ears again and again, stopping him from anything he wanted to do. These words were like fetters, bounding him and not allowing to make a move.

Taemin hated restrictions.

He wanted to bury a dead goldfish in the ground? He did it.

He wanted to start breeding piranhas in a garden pond? He did it.

He wanted to drop the tarantula into the mailbox? He did it without hesitation (ah, the postman's expression was priceless!).

He wanted to kill Choi Minho?

Taemin lied down on the grass and stared at the grey sky covered with clouds.

He wanted to.

He wanted to kill Minho so badly. And yet he didn't do it. He stopped himself. Or rather, Choi stopped him. His confident smile. His indulgent look. Taemin really didn't want the mockery and amusement to be the last things to be seen on hyung's face before he kills him. Such victory wouldn't satisfy him. He wanted to wake something more within Minho. He wanted to see his constantly calm face twisted in rage or horror. He wanted to see the flash of madness in these steady eyes. He wanted to be the reason Minho would go mad.

He wanted to start the game seriously.

But he needed a plan for that. And although he had been thinking about it for many hours, his mind was undoubtedly suited for improvisation. He found it really hard to concentrate. Even now his thoughts were leaving him, running to the secateurs waiting a few meters away. He could snatch it, run home, assault the unsuspecting hyung, and win the game in the blink of an eye. But he knew that this wasn't the way. That Minho was actually waiting for it. That he is not afraid of Taemin. The younger didn't like it. This wasn’t how a real game should look like.

Taemin sat up, and looked at the building of the house again. The thoughts that were circling inside of his head were finally beginning to form a sensible plan. He didn't have any specific strategy yet. He knew that planning was, unfortunately, time-consuming. But there was something that gave him the advantage. Taemin smirked and stood up.

Recalling today's conversation that took place over the grave of poor Eustace, the boy paid particular attention to the behavior of his friend. This previously observed strange connection between what Taemin did and how Minho reacted seemed to be something really worth exploring. Because when the younger smiled, the expression on the elder's face was tinged with a slight tension. Because when the younger was making a charming face, he could see the distraction in the attitude of the elder. Because when the younger was threatening, the elder's eyes flashed with excitement. Considering this peculiar phenomenon, Taemin came to the one, very simple and extremely satisfying conclusion.

He had control over Minho.

To a small extent, but still noticeable. The elder probably didn't even realize it, otherwise he would do anything to break the string. That's why Taemin had to take some actions. He had to deepen his strange influence, which existence he didn't quite understand, but which filled him with an incredible excitement. It created so many possibilities. Because if the smile alone influenced Minho in such a way, what would happen if Taemin touches him? Or if he whispers insults and threats to his ear? Or if he touches his cheek with the blade of a knife?

Taemin's head was full of fascinating ideas. He wanted to put them into practice all at once. It was a complete novelty, and the boy lived for the novelties, because it was the only thing that could disperse the overwhelming boredom and monotony of a human existence.

He should have come up with this game much earlier! They knew each other for ages and friendly closeness was nothing new to them. But this was something completely different. Something that caused chills on Taemin's back and spasms of excitement in his stomach. And Taemin decided to make the key point of his strategy out of it.

The boy stopped moving and looked back at the house. In the window of his hyung's room the light has just turned on. Taemin smiled broadly, unable to wait for the new plan to come to life.

He wanted to find the answer to one simple question:

How far can he get in controlling Choi Minho?

~*~

"Hyuuuuung. " Taemin stood at the door of his friend's room, folding his hands behind his back. His blond hair swayed charmingly around his face as the boy began to swing on the tips of his toas, back and forth, back and forth, focusing the attention of a pair of the dark eyes.

"No, Taeminnie, I still do not approve of your fun with Eustace," Minho said firmly, then stared back at the mechanism he was holding. Taemin rolled his eyes, impatient, but he kept an innocent, cute face.

"That's not the point," he murmured, waving his hand dismissively. "I don't want to play with him anymore... I want to play with you now," he said in a straightforward manner, again catching his friend's eyes.

"I don’t have the mood for electrocution," the older boy replied, and there was a sudden sign of caution in his voice. "Maybe next ti-"

"Let's bake some cookies, hyung," Taemin cut him off, putting as much sweetness and innocence into his offer as he could. It worked. Minho gave him a suspicious look, but put down the screwdriver he was holding.

"Cookies?" the elder raised one eyebrow in doubtfully, as if searching for a deception in this proposal. Taemin nodded vigorously.

"Yes, cookies. I feel like eating something sweet, but I can't do it alone," he explained.

Minho frowned at these words. Normally Taemin didn't admit that there was something he couldn’t do. Never. This sudden change could only mean one thing - the younger had finally developed some strategy. Minho smiled under his breath. He couldn't wait to experience Taemin’s tactics.

~*~

"I thought you wanted to bake these cakes together," said Minho, putting a collection of cookie molds on the table. Every housewife would envy such molds. Their shapes charmed with originality. Well, who wouldn't want to eat a cookie resembling a cut-off human hand? Or a torn out eyeball? The aesthetics of such sweets only deepened the appetite! That's why the owners of this extraordinary collection found really hard to understand the horror on the postman's face when one day they decided to give him some treats. They came to the conclusion that his scream must have been a symptom of a sincere excitement, so the next day they gave him a whole bowl of freshly baked cookies. Ah, anyone would love to have such kind neighbors as these two. It's such a  pity that their house stood alone up on a hill, above the town, and no living soul voluntarily ventured into the area. The boys really loved having guests.

"We are baking them together," replied Taemin, who was sitting on the kitchen counter. "You're working and I'm bothering you. The perfect cooperation system." The boy waved his legs in the air, not taking his eyes off his friend.

"Don't be so sure that I will allow you to eat these cookies," the older one talked back, not impressed by Taemin's audacity. His arrogant expression combined with this angelic face, created a disarmingly adorable sight, which Choi found hard to resist.

"You're blackmailing me, hyung," Taemin said accusingly, and his friend laughed heartily.

"I won't deny it," he said shamelessly, at the same time preparing the molds. Taemin pouted.

"In that case, I will blackmail you, too," he said gravely, causing Minho to burst with laughter. The elder looked at him with amusement.

"It's an honor," he said with mockingly, for a moment forgetting about molds and cookies and focusing his full attention on his friend. Taemin barely suppressed the grin of satisfaction. Everything was going according to his plan.

"Now you're laughing, but soon you'll be begging for mercy," he said in a sinister tone, watching his friend's eyes getting darker at these words. The older boy cleared his throat, but didn't return to preparing the molds, still looking at Taemin.

"How do you want to force me to beg for mercy?" he asked in a light tone of voice, trying hard not to show what Taemin's threats did to him. The younger smiled cunningly.

"If you don't give me cookies, I will make sure your death will be long and painful," he announced in a cheerful tone. His fair hair swayed around his face as he cocked his head. "I will torture you until your last breath," he promised, clearly seeing the changes taking place in Minho's posture. He was right. His method was really effective. Taemin has never been so proud of himself.

"Can't wait," said Minho in a calm voice, though his eyes were getting darker with every word spoken by Taemin. "May I ask how will your sophisticated torture look like?" he spoke casually, at the same time reaching out his hand and ruffling the younger's hair in a friendly way.

"Like this."

Taemin grabbed his friend's hand and pulled him closer. He tightly wrapped his legs around Minho's hips. Not letting go of Minho's hand, he laid it on his own cheek, never taking his eyes off the older one's eyes. They were bigger and darker than ever. Taemin congratulated himself. There he was, making the control-freak Choi Minho lose his precious calmness. Excited by his own success, he decided to go a step further. He entangled his fingers in his friend's hair, his lips getting close to the older's ear. He felt Minho shuddering.

"How do you like this type of torture, hyung?" he asked in a whisper, madly absorbed in his little game. He really had a great time. He liked this little prison in which he enclosed his friend. He liked the silence that he was able to enforce on him. He liked the closeness that made him feel the rising heat. He liked Choi Minho. Choi Minho enslaved by his sensual tricks.

"Taeminnie..." said the taller, finally regaining his voice and the control over himself. The younger pulled away from his ear and glanced at him questioningly. Minho smirked, but his eyes remained strangely dark. "If I didn't know you, I would say you're seducing me," he said mockingly. "The game is about killing, not to flirting, remember?"

Taemin growled angrily at those words and harshly yanked his friend's hair, tilting his head back.

"I remember very well, hyung," he announced with a sweet voice, tugging Minho's hair even more. He knew that the elder won't scream, but it was still worth trying. Taemin promised himself that he would make his friend scream one day. He really wanted to see and hear Minho begging for mercy. It must have been a terribly charming sight.

Taemin released his friend's strands of hair and smiled triumphantly, seeing the complete lack of control in those usually calm eyes.

"It seems that you're the one who forgotten what my game is leading up to!" he exclaimed, and then attacked his friend, clenching his hands around his neck and still not unraveling the legs wrapped around his hips. Minho staggered back, fighting for the balance and the air. In other circumstances, he would never allow to be attacked so easily, but this time Taemin's tactics worked flawlessly, distracting the elder and misleading his thoughts. He ended up being defenseless in the moment of the attack.

Taemin tightened his grip on Minho's neck, at the same time trying not to fall to the floor as Minho thrashed around the kitchen like a wild animal, bumping into the cupboards and banging against the table. And although the sight was really fascinating, the younger underestimated his friend's physical strength. After the initial moment of confusion, Minho began to fight for control over the situation, intentionally hitting the walls and furniture, just to throw off the strangling assailant.

As a result of this struggle, they both soon landed on the floor, and to cushion the fall, Taemin had to give up on his attempt to squeeze all the oxygen out of his friend's lungs. Released from the pressure on his neck, Minho began to cough and choke on the air. The younger listened to these spasmodic sounds in silence, and when they stopped he turned his head and glanced at his friend lying on the floor. Minho also looked at Taemin, and they stared into each other's eyes for a moment, none of them saying anything.

And then unexpectedly they both burst out laughing.

"It's probably the most fun game I've ever invented, hyung," Taemin said enthusiastically, as the older boy rolled his eyes.

"Did you like choking me that much?" he asked, his voice still hoarse. Taemin laughed at these words, adorably shaking his head.

"I liked your eyes," he replied. Minho raised an eyebrow.

"Eyes?"

"Yes," Taemin smiled at his friend, honestly overjoyed with the whole situation. "They were insane."

"Lee Taemin and his compliments," Minho commented under his breath, but did not hide a soft smile, which for some reason appeared on his lips. Then he got up from the floor and walked a bit wobbly towards the still laughing Taemin. He offered him a hand to help him.

When they were both up, the elder looked around the devastated kitchen. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "Do your games always have to mean a mess?" he asked accusingly, glaring at his friend.

"I'm sure you can handle it," Taemin replied calmly.

"Me?" Minho raised his eyebrows in disbelief. His friend shrugged, pretending to be indifferent. But his eyes were mischievous.

"You lost this round, hyung," said Taemin with undisguised satisfaction. "I think cleaning up is a nice punishment." The boy made a thoughtful face. "Oh, and you should agree with me that in this situation all the cookies are mine, right?" Taemin smiled sweetly, seeing the lust for murder slowly igniting his friend's pupils.

"You'd better disappear from my view right now, if you don't want the second round to end up with your head landing in the oven instead of the cookies," Minho threatened in a strikingly calm voice. Taemin quickly ran away from his furious glare, but he stopped in the doorstep of the kitchen just to send his friend a disarming smile.

"One-zero, hyung," he said. "I hope you will put more effort into the game the next time." After these words he escaped from the view of his friend, because he was sure that one more second and his head may really become a new dish on the list of Choi Minho's culinary achievements.


End file.
